


(what you are) in the dark

by bonebo



Category: Mass Effect - All Media Types
Genre: BDSM, Dom/sub, M/M, Multi, Piercings, Praise Kink
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-12
Updated: 2017-09-16
Packaged: 2018-12-29 02:48:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12073011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bonebo/pseuds/bonebo
Summary: There’s a new face gracing the ranks of Spec Ops, and he’s single-handedly thrown the organized chaos of Nihlus’s life into calamity.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [evanelric](https://archiveofourown.org/users/evanelric/gifts).



There’s a new face gracing the ranks of Spec Ops, and he’s single-handedly thrown the organized chaos of Nihlus’s life into calamity.

It starts when the rookie first shows up, walking in calm and confident like he thinks he belongs--like the people around him know his father is an officer for C-Sec, like they care about the scores he got at the academy, like he’s somehow worth more than every other wet-under-the-fringe newbie who came through those same doors.

Nihlus can smell the pride on him as he passed by, and it’s enough to have his lip curling; what he wouldn’t give to be there the first time the rookie had that exterior shattered, when he was first broken in proper. Many a potential agent found themselves thrown to the varren of Spec Ops only to be chewed up and spit right back out, clutching their demotion with a relief they wouldn’t dare admit to, and when he sees the swagger in the rookie’s stride, hears the calm cadence of his subvocals as he addresses the captain-- _”Garrus Vakarian, reporting for duty, sir”_ \--Nihlus can’t help the hiss that leaves him. 

_Garrus Vakarian_ \--just another inexperienced brat from a model home, had everything handed to him on a golden platter, never struggled a day in his life and now he’s _here_ , strolling into the place Nihlus had to kick and fight and claw to, and he doesn’t realize his fists have clenched tight, talons cutting into his palms, until there’s a cool hand resting on his shoulder and pulling him out of the maelstrom that is his head.

“Nihlus.” 

Saren’s voice is quiet in his ear, with the precise flanging that drives all the tension out of Nihlus’s body. Sagging under his mate’s touch, he glances up at Saren, unable to keep the irritated twitch of his mandibles at bay. “...what?”

“Control yourself.” Amusement isn’t something Saren shows very often--especially in the public space of their workplace--but, much like cobalt around his lips or crimson on the tips of his talons, it suits him, in its own unique way. His hand pulls away, back to his side just close enough for their talons to almost-not-quite brush. “I can feel the anger coming off you all the way over here. You’re better than that.” He pauses, then adds almost as an afterthought, “I trained you better than that.”

And Nihlus knows it’s a quip, knows Saren’s attempts at humour and comfort have always been a little unconventional, but the dig stings more than it should. He turns away from his mate’s smirking face and crosses his arms over his chest, leaning against his desk and resigning himself to watching the rookie go about setting up his own workspace--thankfully, far enough across the room that Nihlus doesn’t have to endure the stench of his pride.

But Saren’s gaze is still on him, curious and burning. “What has gotten into you?”

“You know his type,” Nihlus retorts, scowling down at his blurry reflection in the tile floor. “They show up like they’re all ready to take on the world, like they’re the missing key to our success--and in a week they’re right back out the door.” He snorts derisively. “They give up before they even get a chance to be broken in.”

For a moment they’re both quiet, and Nihlus is certain that Saren will leave him to sort out his tantrum himself; but then there’s a faint brush of claws over his cowl, and even through the armor it has Nihlus shivering.

“Then perhaps, my love, we will break this one in ourselves.” Saren’s mandibles twitch in what could be the beginnings of a smile--but Nihlus knows him well enough to see the snarl hidden in his lips. When Nihlus opens his mouth to protest, Saren interjects with a sharp, “No. Silence. Let the idea mull in that twisted little head of yours before you voice your opinion to me.”

Nihlus’s jaws snap shut more on reflex than anything, shame trickling in hot streaks down the back of his neck and making the first beginnings of heat start to pool between his legs; and by the time he’s recovered enough to say anything, Saren’s back is already turned, his gait easy as he goes back to his own desk.

Nihlus stares after him for a moment, then scowls, sinking into his chair and glaring at a half-finished report flickering on his monitor screen. He imagines the rookie taken to his knees with fear on his first trip out in the field, the stink of his pride replaced with reeking fear, and his fist relaxes around the mouse.

His twisted little head, indeed.


	2. Chapter 2

“Is he still on your mind?” 

Nihlus looks up from the holopad he’s browsing with a twitch of his mandibles, his gaze sweeping around the room before eventually settling on Saren’s lithe form--his mate stands in the doorway of the master bathroom, loose sleeping pants slung around his cocked hips and arms crossed over his bare chest, and even from here Nihlus can see the amusement in Saren’s bright eyes, the quirk to his scarred lips.

 _Bastard_. He looks back down to the holopad with a scowl. “Who?”

“Don’t play dumb, Nihlus.” Saren crosses the room with silent steps, gracefully sinking down onto the bed at Nihlus’s side. “It’s not becoming of you.” 

“I couldn’t possibly know what you’re talking about.” Nihlus scrapes a claw across the ‘pad with more force than absolutely necessary, and startles as a broad palm suddenly covers the screen, yanking it out of his hands.

“Enough,” Saren growls, tossing the tablet aside with his narrowed gaze pinning Nihlus in place, his mandibles flaring out minutely--one of his very few tells, something Nihlus subconsciously responds to before he can help it, sinking down toward the bed under his mate’s flanging subvocals. “Do I need to get your collar, Nihlus? Are you acting up for attention?”

Nihlus stares at him for a heartbeat, hesitant; then he drops his gaze, his mandibles shuffling as his head bows enough to expose the vulnerable flesh under his fringe, and his silence says everything Saren needs to know. He sighs, shaking his head--and not five minutes later he has Nihlus on his knees on the floor, a tight band of white leather buckled snugly around his throat.

“I’m disappointed in you, Nihlus,” Saren murmurs, slipping out the spacer in the front of Nihlus’s cowl and gently threading a silver ring through the pierced hole instead; his talons are practiced as they twist the captive ring in place, his eyes keen enough to note the way the muscles in Nihlus’s abdomen flex when he gives the secured piercing a flick. “Vakarian has done nothing to you, yet you let him get so deep under your skin. Have I not taught you better?”

Nihlus is quiet, his mandibles twitching stubbornly; and Saren gives the ring in his cowl a sharp tug, forcing a yelp from him.

_“Nihlus.”_

The raw dominance in Saren’s subvocals forces a shudder to race down Nihlus’s spine, and his head droops a little lower--the tension melts from him under Saren’s gaze until he’s half-slouched where he kneels, his gaze fixed on the floor. 

“...yes, sir.”

Saren stands, making sure his scowl is audible--he knows Nihlus is listening. “Straighten up,” he snaps, tugging his pants down before sitting back down on the edge of the bed with his thighs spread. “You know I do not tolerate laziness.”

“Yes, sir.” Nihlus sits up, raising his head enough to satisfy the command but being careful to avoid eye contact, clenching his back teeth together as he feels one of Saren’s toe talons trace up the gradually-loosening slit between his legs. 

“If I knew Vakarian would make you this disobedient, I would have taken you over my knee right there in the office,” Saren says, and he doesn’t miss the way Nihlus’s mandibles twitch at the thought, how he shivers where he kneels. “I would have spanked you until you were pliant, then bent you over my desk and fucked you stupid in front of everybody.” 

He continues trailing his talon up Nihlus’s hot little slit, feeling the plates gradually part beneath his toe; and as soon as he feels the first hint of wetness against his claw he pulls away, grinning faintly at Nihlus’s weak little keen.

“Come.” Saren pats his thigh, nodding encouragingly as Nihlus shuffles forward, willingly placing himself in the strong cage of Saren’s lithe legs. He leans forward, nuzzling one mandible along the relaxed slit of his dom’s plates, tongue snaking out to taste the faint salt of his arousal; and it’s only when the tip of Saren’s cock has slipped out, encased in the wet warmth of Nihlus’s mouth, that he looks up to find Saren’s gaze focused on the datapad he’d pulled from Nihlus earlier.

Nihlus doesn’t bother to hide his noise of displeasure, scraping the edge of one tooth along Saren’s cock--and he’s met with his dom’s growl, with his free hand closing tight around one spike of Nihlus’s fringe and jerking his head backward. Saren’s eyes don’t leave the tablet, but they don’t need to for him to have every bit of Nihlus’s absolute attention. 

“Tell me why he bothers you.” 

Nihlus hesitates, his gaze darting away. “He doesn’t _bother_ me. He--”

But Nihlus is cut off as his head is jerked right back onto Saren’s cock, stubbornly pulled down until his nose is pressed up right against Saren’s abdomen and the thick length of his mate’s dick is stuffed down his throat. His eyes water at the sudden intrusion, his breath entirely shut off with Saren’s force; and his hands fly up, scrabbling helplessly at Saren’s knees as he’s intentionally choked.

“Do not lie to me, Nihlus,” Saren growls, his voice low and calm; and after another few pounding heartbeats, he pulls Nihlus’s head back, letting him suck in a ragged gasp of air. “Tell me why he bothers you.”

Nihlus only looks up at him blearily, his head spinning as he tries to process his answer--and he’s met with a noise of disapproval from Saren, has no time to protest before he’s jerked right back down, his head crammed again between those strong pale thighs.

“I can do this for as long as it takes for you to admit what I already know,” Saren says, finally looking away from his tablet to glance down at Nihlus: at his watering eyes and mandibles bent down to accommodate his proximity to Saren’s pelvis, the wide stretch of his jaw and the way his cock curves up against his belly to smear pre-cum across his abdominal plating, the faint blue slick that dribbles from his open slit and collects on the floor.

Messy. Saren will have to make him lick it clean--but only after his demonstration is over.

He holds Nihlus down for a while longer--long enough for him to finish typing a sentence--before he pulls him back again. This time Nihlus gulps in air like he’s been drowned, his mandibles quivering and wet tracks streaking his cheeks, every exhale caught on a whimper. His pupils are blown, pretty green eyes dazed and glassy from more than just oxygen deprivation.

He’s beautiful like this, Saren thinks; when he’s pliable and broken into submission, too low in subspace to let his silly pride keep him from what he so desperately wants, what he needs. He trails a claw lightly across one trembling mandible and delights in the way Nihlus’s eyes flutter closed, mouth slack as he pants.

“Tell me why, Nihlus,” Saren murmurs, digging his clawtip in just enough to be felt and not missing the way his sub’s slender shoulders hitch. Nihlus lets his head fall forward a little, his forehead resting against Saren’s knee. 

“...jealous,” he whispers, his voice cracking and raw, and Saren feels a warm rush of pride surge through him.

“You’re jealous,” he repeats, moving his hand to Nihlus’s mouth, petting over teeth sharp enough to cut his talon to the bone yet blunted, made harmless, by his sub’s devotion. “Why are you jealous?”

“...don’t want to be second-best,” Nihlus mutters, and even knowing it for days has done nothing to prepare Saren for the heartache he feels when the words leave his mate’s mouth. 

He knows that’s the problem--knows that Nihlus’s demons eat him alive in the dark, that no matter how scathingly he’s been ridiculed or chastised that his cruelest critic is always himself. He knew as soon as he saw the rookie come in with his pedigree and his pride and his parents’ confidence that Nihlus would hate him on the spot; but only because he was everything, had everything, Nihlus did not.

“You see him as a threat.”

Nihlus hesitates--but his nod is slow, so slight Saren almost misses it, and he closes his eyes like he’s ashamed of what his past has taught him to fear. 

It’s not that he’s oversensitive; Saren learned long ago that Nihlus’s paranoia is well-founded in years of always being passed over, of being shunted to the side, of being left behind for the next shiny-new thing to come in the door. His life has been a study in just how little hard work and a sharp mind can matter in a society based on obedient rank and file, and he won’t cry--not yet, anyway, he’s such a tough boy--but Saren finds himself almost wishing he would, just to release the pressure that’s been building inside him since the day Garrus walked in the door.

He shakes his head, resigning himself to the fact that, yet again, he’s going to have to break Nihlus down even more, strip away all of his defenses just to touch and heal where he needs it the most. He grabs again at Nihlus’s fringe, guiding him back to his cock--gentler this time, now that his point has been made.

“I bet he can’t suck my cock better than you,” Saren murmurs, running a talon over the tender skin under Nihlus’s eye to rub the moisture away. Encouraged by his touch, Nihlus sucks the length of his wet shaft deeper, and Saren rumbles quietly to reward him. “I bet he doesn’t submit as beautifully as you do. Bet his tongue isn’t as talented, and his cunt isn’t as tight.”

He lets the words linger for a moment, simmer in Nihlus’s mind to stoke the arousal there, and takes the eager twitch of the hard cock between his sub’s knees as his cue to press, “I bet that if he came home with us, you would put him to shame with ease, and show him just how a good submissive behaves.”

Nihlus’s eyes dart up, a plethora of emotion flickering through their bright green depths; and while Saren can read the unease there, the clear anxiousness at bringing a stranger into his own safe space, the look Nihlus’s face settles on is one of desire.

Hunger to prove that he is better--both to the rookie, and himself.

“What do you think of the idea?” Saren asks, tugging lightly at Nihlus’s fringe to coax him backward, flexing his cock once it’s free of his mouth to break the string of saliva hanging from the tapered tip. “We could bring the rookie here and show him just how good you can be for me…” He strokes the pad of one talon over Nihlus’s lip, letting his subvocals purr. “Do you like that idea?”

And Nihlus nods, a slow and decisive thing, earning himself a soft pet across the fringe--he preens under the touch, shifting closer to let the underside of his cock rub up against the plating of Saren’s shin. Normally the unsolicited contact--especially for his own pleasure--would earn him a swift correction, but Saren knows this was a particularly difficult session for his hard-headed little mate. 

He figures Nihlus has earned himself a pass; in this, if nothing else.

“Of course you do.” Saren moves away to the sound of his sub’s whine, and stretches himself out on the bed with his thighs splayed, giving his slick cock a few lazy strokes just to watch Nihlus’s gaze track his motions. He gives his thigh a pat. “Come here, dearest. Come claim your reward.”

Nihlus scrambles up without another word, straddling the broad span of Saren’s hips and grabbing at his cock like he’s desperate for it, immediately starting up a pace of bouncing on his dick that’s too much, too deep, too fast. Saren has to actively work to keep Nihlus from hurting himself as they fuck, and he knows it’s because of the rookie--knows Nihlus is worked up at the thought of Garrus on his knees beside him, slender body bent to suckle on his cock, and has a sneaking suspicion that Nihlus also wants to punish himself for daring to fantasize about that perceived threat. 

He’s such a complicated creature under the anger and the attitude, and Saren is struck again by the desire to hurt those who damaged his mate so deeply. But for now, all he can do is keep Nihlus from hurting himself further--grab him by his cowl piercing and make him roll onto his back, shove between his legs to fuck the mixed mess of emotions right out of him. 

And after, he’s better; tucked up against Saren’s side with their legs tangled together, head resting on the swell of Saren’s cowl and eyes closed as he rests. By the time Saren’s finished with his tablet Nihlus is fast asleep on his shoulder, and the older turian can’t help the small smile that pulls at his lips as he takes a moment to just watch his mate sleep.

He’s seen Nihlus in every state--leading a raid with fire in his eyes, covered in blood and barely clinging to consciousness, tied and gagged on his knees with Saren’s cum painted across his brow--yet this, his Nihlus stretched out and peacefully resting, too deep down in his head for his paranoia and fears to touch him, is without a doubt his absolute favourite.

Saren taps the overhead lights off, closes out of his conversation with a certain Spec Ops rookie, and sets the tablet aside. Tonight has brought progress--but soon, he will have a solution.


End file.
